


You Belong to the World

by PowerWordThrill



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Aymeric de Borel x Warrior of Light, Bath Sex, Blood and Injury, Body Worship, Consensual Sex, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Pegging, Penetration, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, fem dom, viera warrior of light
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:33:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29991852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PowerWordThrill/pseuds/PowerWordThrill
Summary: Ser Aymeric's crush on our Viera Warrior of Light, Celis Ironwood, has developed past his expectations, but is this just casual sex to her, or something more?A very self indulgent fic of my WoL getting frisky with our bashful Lord Commander. Come for the raunchy sex, stay for the plot.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	1. Abrupt Adjournment

The House discussion had veered off topic as Ser Aymeric sat at the head of the table, reading over his notes from the day’s meeting. Just as he was about to make a motion to start discussion on the next subject, the door to the meeting room barged open. Standing in the doorway, one foot still in the air from where they had kicked it open, was the Warrior of Light. 

“Meeting adjourned,” she said, striding into the room, eyes locked on Aymeric. There was muttered protests from the other House members and he stood, opening his mouth to protest.

“Celis, you can’t just barge in here and--!”

“Meeting. Adjourned,” she repeated, continuing her advance on the Speaker. The Viera’s face was hard, and her armor and face were smeared with dust, grime, and blood. A glance at her belt showed her Claws still dripping with gore. The pit of Aymeric’s stomach went cold and heavy, and he glanced at the rest of the Lords before nodding his approval for their departure. 

“Go. Clearly Mistress Ironwood has something of great import to discuss. We will pick this back up at the next meeting.” 

The Lords shot glances at each other as they picked up their things and hurried from the room, avoiding the Warrior of Light’s gaze and giving them a wide berth. The door slammed shut and Celis walked over and fixed the drop bar in place, sealing it shut before advancing back on the Speaker of the House of Lords. 

“Take off your pants.” 

He swallowed and the click in his throat was audible. Her furred ears twitched, and the corner of her mouth jerked into a smirk. Standing his ground, he crossed his arms. 

“You cannot just barge into a Council meeting and ravish me. If you want to meet me, you have a key, and are welcome in my abode at any time. A little forewarning, and we can have a lovely--” 

She was upon him in a blink, grabbing him by the cravat, jerking him close to her face. He could smell her sweat, the disgusting tang of blood on her skin and her breath, and that cold stone in his stomach dropped lower and began to grow hot. Celis leaned in, lips brushing his ear as she spoke.

“I’m not here for another dinner date.” 

Her fingers wound their way beneath his tunic, tugging at the waistband of his trousers. Aymeric could feel himself growing hard as he drew a shaky breath and swallowed again. 

There was hot breath on his neck as she chuckled against his skin, a deep purr that made his ears ring and blood sing. Her hand dropped to palm him through his pants, and he groaned, gritting his teeth. 

“Tell me ‘no’ and I’ll stop,” she purred against him again, pressing her body against his, forcing his waist against the table and his hands reached for the edge to keep his balance. The blood was rushing in Aymeric’s ears, and he could feel his will breaking. She was kissing his neck, hot tongue dancing over his skin and the desire to let her take him was overtaking his senses. By the Fury, it had been too long since they’d lain together, not since she’d gone to Ala Mhigo to join the resistance. . . 

“I need an answer, darling,” she murmured, snaking a leg between his and grinding up against his thigh. 

He grunted, shaking his head, “I could never tell you no.” 

“Good boy,” she chuckled, pulling away and he sighed, watching her fiddle with her waistband before reaching into her haversack before taking out her strap and a bottle. He watched with rapt attention as she poured the clear liquid into her hand, stroking the bulb at the end before sinking it into herself and covering the shaft at other end with the remainder. She continued to stroke as Aymeric dutifully undressed and dropped his pants, finally freeing his erection.

Celis’ eyes dropped down, and she grinned, biting her lip, “You’re so easy.” 

“Get over here and take me already,” he said, gripping himself as she advanced, watching her do the same. 

“Ah-ah,” she clucked, pulling his hand away from his penis with one hand, and reaching around to sweep the table clear with the other. There was clattering of papers and writing utensils as they went flying, but Aymeric barely heard it as Celis gripped his other wrist tightly, spinning him around and pushing him over onto the table, leaning over him, pressing the strap between his ass cheeks. 

Dropping to her knees, Celis spread him, tonguing at his hole, feeling him quiver as he sucked in breath through his teeth, braced on his elbows across the table. His dick twitched, aching for some stimulation and he writhed under them, waiting for her to enter. After minutes of this, she ran her tongue up his crack and along his spine as she stood, sheathing the strap inside him in the same movement. 

The moan that erupted from his lips was borderline primal and she took a fistful of his raven hair, pulling his head back to watch his face. His gray eyes were unfocused, almost crossed, and he bit his lip, relishing in the movement of her hips as she began to thrust against him, slowly at first, then faster and faster. 

The only sound was their frantic breathing and the slapping of skin. Aymeric couldn’t see their face, but could picture it, heterochromic eyes clenched shut, thick lips pulled back into a snarl as she humped him, and he knew that she was chasing her own orgasm before worrying about his. 

The grip on his hair slackened and they instead grabbed the back of his neck, pressing the side of his face flat against the table, leaning low and panting in his ear. His dick bounced beneath her momentum, hitting beneath the bottom edge of the table and he ground his teeth, desperate to touch himself as she fucked him but she slapped his hand away as he moved to. 

“No,” she hissed in his ear. “Not yet.” He groaned in response, pressing his forehead to the tabletop, pounding it with a fist. She made a tsking sound in the back of her throat and her hips stopped much to his dismay and the whimper that he emitted was utterly humiliating. His face flushed and she reached to grab his chin, still inside him, but on the verge of pulling out. 

“Only good boys get to cum,” she said sternly, meeting his eyes. “Are you going to be a good boy, darling?”

He swallowed again, mouth like cotton, but managed to nod, earning a smile from her. She kissed him softly, and he could taste the iron of blood on their lips. Her tongue snaked in along his as she started thrusting again, sending jolts of pleasure up his spine. He moaned into her mouth and he felt her smile again, the kiss becoming messy and disjointed as one of her hands wandered south to his thigh, rubbing the soft spot between the joint of his hip and base of his dick. His hips bucked, aching to be touched by them, and she slowly ran one of her fingernails up his neglected shaft. His knees went soft, happy to be braced against the table as she instead gripped him by the balls, fondling them in her fingers. 

Their kiss moved from his mouth to his neck to his shoulder, and he could tell they were close to orgasm by the soft gasps and moans she uttered against his skin as her momentum began to falter, the thrusts becoming harder and slower as she ground against the textured saddle of the strap. 

“C-Celis. . .” Aymeric moaned but she didn’t seem to hear him, working a spot on his shoulder with her mouth, squeezing his balls a little too tight before gripping him by the shaft, finally, finally touching him, working her hand up and down and he bit his lip to avoid another groan. 

Her teeth sunk into his shoulder as she ground against him, body coiled tight as a spring as she cried out with pleasure, shaking against him as she came hard, riding the wave of orgasm. Aymeric’s hips bucked, fucking into Celis’ hand desperately wanting to cum before she could let go. Fingers slick with lube and pre-cum, she squeezed as she jerked him off, waiting to feel the swell of his dick.

It didn’t take long, having been so denied of external stimulation, before he came, shooting rope after rope of cum on to the underside of the table. Neither one moved for several moments, breathing hard, the strap still sunk to the hilt in his backside. 

When she finally pulled out he shivered, already missing the weight of her against his back. He heard her once more fiddling with her haversack and her clothing, not trusting himself to stand and look at her since his legs felt like jelly. 

They rubbed his back, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “Clean up here and meet me in your quarters in half a bell. Don’t keep me waiting.” He could only nod, and he heard her unlatch the door and slip out, leaving him naked and alone in the Council meeting room.


	2. Drown In You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What could Celis have in store for Aymeric when he gets home? He'd better not be late...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is both a longer chapter and from here on we start getting into the darker tags and light story spoilers. Prepare for feels.

His time was almost up when Aymeric finally made his way home doing his best to take the backstreets to avoid being seen returning to his own house. It felt shameful, doing what they did where they did. Usually their trysts were contained to the house; it wasn’t unusual for the two of them to share an evening meal there, after all, they were known to be close after everything the Warrior of Light had done for Ishgard, done for him.

Something had happened in Ala Mhigo, that much was obvious from the state Celis was in.

His manservant was nowhere to be seen, nor was Lucia. The fair-haired warrior was one of the only other people that knew about his relationship with Celis besides his staff. Thankfully the two were fond of each other, and more than once Celis had made it clear she was welcome to join in with Aymeric’s consent, but Lucia didn’t seem to have an interest in bedroom affairs. Even so, she was the other woman in Aymeric’s life, and he cared for her dearly as did Celis.

He opened the door and called their name, but didn’t get an answer. The lower floor of the house was dark, so he wandered to the second, expecting to find them in the bedchamber. It was candlelit and cozy, a fire roaring in the fireplace driving off the chill. There was the sound of water running in the attached bathroom, and he pushed open the door to see Celis leaning over the side of the large stone bath, running a hand in the steaming water. They looked up and smiled.

“There you are, I thought I said not to keep me waiting?” she chuckled, standing to greet him at the doorway with a kiss, hands moving to help him undress at the same time.

“Half a bell, just as you said, Cottontail,” he murmured against her lips and she gave a breathy laugh, pulling his tunic over his head. Running a hand over his chest, she ducked her head to kiss him below the jaw. He reached up and began helping her remove her armor until she was bare to the waist. Aymeric held her by the hips at arms length, taking in the damage done, struggling to see beneath the grime that had made its way down to her skin. He put a hand on her side, thumbing away some of the dirt and heard her hiss in a breath. Aymeric glanced up to their face, seeing her wincing in pain as her strong facade began to melt away under him.

They brushed his hands away as she broke his gaze, wrapping her arms around his waist to hold him tight with her breasts squished against his pecs and took a shuddering breath with her head leaned against his shoulder. He held her close, one hand reaching up to run through her hair, finding some areas matted with blood. It had been a long, long time since he’d seen her this rough, probably not since Nidhogg.

“Do you want to talk?” he murmured into her short ebony hair, unsure where the red ombre was dye or blood. She shook her head once, short and quick, her sign for when she goes nonverbal. He nodded, continuing to hold her, feeling the warmth of her skin against his, “It’s okay.” He was used to her quiet nature and the silent strength she carried herself with, but this was different. Her selective mute periods were usually punctuated with smiles, encouraging looks, or thematic gestures. It was always concerning when they retreated into themself without much expression or explanation.

After a minute she pulled back, looking anywhere but his face. Her eyes were pained and he grabbed the sides of her face gently pulling her gaze to him, “You’re okay.” They nodded slowly a few times, taking a deep breath before helping Aymeric out of the rest of his clothes. He returned the favor before stepping into the bath, watching as she stood over the drain rinsing all the grime off. Swirls of red and brown circled her feet for several minutes as she stood with her back to him. As it washed away, he could see the bruising on her body, right in the center of her spine, on the sides of her ribs, some open cuts across her arms barely scabbed over.

She scrubbed at her face for a moment before turning back to him, makeup gone, and winced as his eyes went wide in response. There were no more glamours, nothing to cover up the damage. She was utterly exposed. One eye was heavily blackened, her bottom lip was split and swollen. Celis walked to the edge of the bath and Aymeric reached out to hold her hips, taking her in.

“I take it nothing is broken then?”

They shook their head, struggling for a moment before saying, “Just m-m-- pride.”

“Oh, bunny,” he sighed, pulling her in to kiss just above her navel. Her hands twisted into his hair.

“S-s-ss-so m--m-- dead.”

He grabbed her by the wrists and guided her into the bath. Her gaze had gone glassy and tears were falling freely down her face. Aymeric had never seen her this vulnerable, so hurt. Sinking low into the bath to where her nose was just above the water, she closed her eyes and shook with silent sobs. Aymeric straddled their back, wetting their short hair and working soap into it as he gently worked out the tangles. He took his time massaging their scalp, rubbing the base of her ears which would usually make her purr. This time, however, she hardly made a noise.

“How are the rest of the Scions? Did they all make it out alright?”

“Barely,” she uttered. “Y’shtola is in rough shape.”

“Worse than you?”

Celis just nodded, drawing her knees up to her chest. “I don’t know if I can lose anyone else.”

Aymeric swallowed thickly, heart aching for her and everyone they’ve both lost over time. It was the nature of battle, to fight, to die, to mourn. Gods know the two of them had done too much mourning for how young they still were. Nothing was guaranteed. It made him genuinely afraid every time she left that he would never see her again. Every stolen moment was precious, and Aymeric held on to them with all his might. It was more than just a quick fuck in his office, a night of passion after dinner. It was tender moments like these where they were naked and vulnerable, literally and figuratively. He rinsed her hair and she leaned back against against his chest folding her ears back out of his face.

“You’re the strongest person I know,” he murmured, dropping a kiss to the top of her head and wrapping his arms around her arguably more muscular frame just to feel her and know they were physically here. She took a deep, shuddering breath, shaking her head.

“I couldn’t hardly touch him,” she spit.

“You’ve destroyed primals, ended Nidhogg, ended a thousand year war, and now you’re helping spur on what was a dying revolution. Whoever this is has nothing on you,” Aymeric said.

“This is different.”

He fell silent, not knowing what to say to make her feel better, and realizing there was nothing. The pressure she was under was immense, and he didn’t know the full story, and didn’t know much about the situation in Ala Mhigo besides that the Garleans had held it for quite some time now. It was unfair, really, that she had so much thrust on her, but at the same time, he knew that she wasn’t the type to stand idly by when someone needed help. She was a Scion, after all, but more than that, she was the Warrior of Light.

He buried his face in her neck, “Please just be careful.”

“I don’t need protecting,” she snapped, sitting up to turn to him, pressing a hand against the scar on his abdomen. Placing a hand over hers, Aymeric raised the other to her face, brushing a thumb over her swollen lip.

Her nose wrinkled and he felt her jaw clench, averting her gaze. “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’m fine. Dozens are dead because I was too late, too weak.”

“Dozens are dead because this is a _war_ ,” Aymeric said sternly, holding her jaw firmly. “Don’t speak to me about survivors’ guilt, Celis Ironwood, unless you want a lecture from the head of the Temple Knights. I hear Ser Aymeric is quite the authority on ordering soldiers to march to their deaths.”

Biting their bruised lip, they pulled free from his grasp and hung their head in shame, chuckling bitterly. He sat back and waited for her to speak again, feeling the ridge of raised scar tissue on his side, remembering.

It felt like it was ages ago already, even though it had only been a few months max since the attack on Ishgard, where Aymeric had been grievously wounded. This was before the two of them had become involved, though the feelings were blooming. He didn’t remember much, only being stabbed and feeling the cold stone beneath him as he laid there, expecting to die by the hand of an unnamed common traitor.

It was by the grace of the Fury that he’d been with the Count Fortempts and his son, for were it not for them, his would-be assassin would have had time to deal a fatal blow. Thankfully, he was apprehended, and shortly thereafter his wounds were seen too as the city went up in flames.

Lucia, coordinating the efforts, managed to hold back the flame and along with the Scions root out those behind it. By then, he had been well enough to lead the attack on the Vault, but it was what happened afterwards that stuck with him.

He had just arrived home and was preparing for the evening when there was a knock on his door. There she stood on the other side, staff in hand, dressed in the telltale garb of a Healer.

She smiled at the butler, offering him a friendly wave and words of assurance that she would handle the Lord Commander’s needs for the evening. He bowed and exited the room, shooting a knowing glance at Aymeric while holding a finger to his lips.

He protested, of course, but Celis wouldn’t hear of it, guiding him to his bedchambers and assisting in the removal of his armor, Aymeric objecting all the while. She’d allowed him to change into bedclothes behind a screen, a relic of modesty they’d long since moved past and assisted him into bed.

“This is hardly necessary, Celis,” he sighed, and she chuckled, shaking her head.

“You took a knife to the gut not a day ago, and led the charge shortly thereafter. You don’t have to hide it from me, Ser Aymeric, I can see the weariness in your eyes.” Her eyes in turn were gentle, purple and silver shining in the firelight. She tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, brushing the stubborn lock that hung perpetually in front of his gray eyes aside. Aymeric’s gaze was locked on her lips, painted dark as always, curled into a knowing smile.

“May I?” she asked, gesturing to his abdomen.

“I assure you, it’s healing fine,” he answered, lifting his nightshirt revealing the tender wound, pink skin already stretched across the four or so inches just beneath his rib cage.

“I have every faith in your chirurgeons,” she said, shifting through the bag on her belt, pulling out a salve and warming a dollop of it between her palms before rubbing it into his skin. He felt it grow warm, then tingly cold, and saw pale light emitting from her palm. Glancing up to her face, he saw their eyes closed, muttering archaic words beneath their breath. A few moments passed before she opened her eyes, finding his gaze locked on hers and she smiled again, squeezing his hand briefly before digging through her pouches again, speaking softly.

“I don’t believe it’s come up, but I started my journey as a Conjurer in Gridania. A talented one, I may add; I was selected by the siblings of the Elder Seedseer to pursue the talents of White Mage.”

“What made you change your mind? I’ve only ever seen you walk the path of Monk and more recently Machinist.”

Celis grew quiet, thoughtful, pulling some herbs out of her belt and studying them closely before answering, “It was too much responsibility, deciding who to heal first, who's a priority, who lives, who dies. I couldn’t handle it. It’s a path I seldom walk these days, only when absolutely necessary.”

Aymeric shook his head, “Don’t let me be the cause of bad memories, friend.”

“They’re not bad,” she said softly, looking toward him again with a smile. She always covered her pain with a smile, and he recalled Lord Haurchefant with a pang. “I find I’m suited to a more direct approach in battle. It’s harder for my enemies to cause pain if I’m standing between them and those I care for. They can’t hurt anyone if they’re dead.”

His breath caught in his throat at the firmness in her voice, at the hardness that flashed in her eyes for just a moment before being covered once more with that damn smile. They handed a bundle of herbs rolled together into a ball to him. “Here, it’ll aid both the pain and getting some restful sleep tonight. You may chew it or swallow it whole.”

Choosing the latter, he saw one of her eyebrows twitch up in amusement before chuckling again, folding her hands in her lap for a moment before shifting as if to stand. He moved quickly to sit up reaching to grab her hand.

“Thank you, Celis. You didn’t have to do this, any of it,” he said, gesturing to the world outside his four walls. “Ishgard is perpetually ever in your debt, as am I.”

“You’re more than welcome,” they responded, squeezing his hand. “Now, get some rest. You don’t have a fever, do you?” Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his forehead for a moment, and he felt the heat rise once more in his face, worried she would mistake it for an elevated temperature before she pulled back, wiping the pigment from her lips away from his skin with a thumb and a giggle. “You’re fine, but I’m not far, alright? Just send for me and I’ll be here, Ser Aymeric.”

“Alright,” he said dumbly, face pink with embarrassment, praying she wouldn’t notice in the low light. When she exited the room to allow him to rest, he foolishly wanted to summon her back just to have her close.

Little did he know how close they would become now sitting in the same bath, legs entwined, but he’d never felt farther from her. In attempt to bridge the distance that was more than physical, he reached forward, putting a hand on her thigh, feeling the muscles beneath the skin tense for a brief moment, recalling how she’d kicked in the door to the meeting room with a flash of heat to his loins.

She sighed and shook her head, uncrossing her arms to grab his hand and pull it closer to her hips, “Enough. I came here to forget all that, just for tonight.”

He shifted closer to her, finding her receptive to his advance as his arms braced him on either side of her head on the side of the bath, "Pray, allow me to assist with that then." Bending low to kiss her, her arms linked around his neck, pulling their torsos together. Her breasts once more pressed close to him, and he felt her nipples grow hard. Aymeric’s hands moved to grip her back, fingers dancing along the rippling muscles and numerous smooth scars that dotted her flesh, pressing their bodies together as the water splashed around them.

Celis was in his lap now as his kisses wandered down her neck to those ample breasts, grabbing one with one hand while he mouthed at the other. The bath was deep, up to their chests sitting upright, and water filled his ears as he sucked at her before she guided him lower, between her breasts, to her navel below the water. He pulled back, flinging water droplets from his hair, meeting her eyes. Aymeric was growing hard beneath Celis’ lap, his hips shifting a bit unconscionably looking for entry.

“Wait,” she breathed, shifting for a moment to reach over the side of the bath, pulling up two vials of contraceptive and handing one to him. They clinked the glass together and linked arms before downing the two simultaneously. There was some time to kill before it kicked in and Aymeric grinned impishly, hooking his hands behind her knees and pushing her back in one swift motion, diving beneath the water to bury his head between her thighs. He heard her muffled screams of laughter as he blew bubbles against her clit before pressing his mouth to her, relishing in the heat of her against his tongue.

Her hands tangled in his hair, legs hooked over either side of the tub with her face barely above the water, the movement of his head bobbing against her causing waves to splash against her face. More than a minute passed before he had to come up for air, panting heavily, messily finding her with a hand and slipping two fingers inside, rubbing the heel of his hand against their clit as he worked.

He kissed her hard, dunking her face underwater briefly and she hooked an arm around his neck, holding herself up as he panted against her mouth as if she could breathe life into him. She rutted against his hand, water sloshing, moaning against the corner of his mouth. He turned to meet her, tongue darting into her mouth, relishing in the taste of her, the heat of their breath mixing. The vibrations of her pleasure could be felt in his chest as he was pressed against her before pulling back, wanting to watch.

Eyes rolling back with bliss, jaw clenched and pushed forward as she chased her high, Aymeric watched her face and chest flush red as her body arched with pleasure. Her walls pulsed around his fingers for several seconds before he pulled his hand away. She groaned in protest, but he pulled her into his lap, guiding his member to press into her waiting wetness.

Once he was inside, the two were still for several breaths, Aymeric resting back on his elbows, almost submerged in the water, Celis straddling him sitting upright, looking toward the ceiling. Then all at once, they were moving again, Celis riding him, pressing on his chest as she bore down on him, pushing him below the water. Holding his breath, he watched her grinding against him through the rippling water, his hips bucking.

The bathwater was sloshing over the side now, but neither one noticed. A warrior in his own right, Aymeric’s stamina was impressive as he held out for some time before tapping on her arms to let him up. He sat up, panting, burying his face between her breasts, kissing here, there, the hollow of their collarbone, nipping at her skin with his teeth, running his tongue over bruises, leaving more in his wake. Her swollen lips met his again briefly, but his mouth continued to wander over her flesh. Her arms were wrapped loosely around his neck letting him explore as her eyes closed with bliss.

He worked a spot below her right breast over top a nasty looking bruise on her ribs and she gasped in pain, grabbing him by the throat and pushing him back underwater in one swift motion. Sputtering, Aymeric forced his way back above, coughing. Celis froze in horror, grabbing either side of his face to shower it with kisses, “Sorry, sorry, darling,” she exclaimed, voice hitched with panic. “It was a reflex.”

“It’s fine, fine,” he laughed, holding her close, face in her neck, “My fault, bunny, keep going.”

“We can stop.”

“Do you want to?” he asked, pulling back to search her eyes for what was the matter.

She shook her head once, but regardless he slowed, holding her by the small of her back, “Are you sure?”

Here eyes were still wide and a pained expression spread over her face. Celis hid behind her hands, not looking at him. Sitting back Aymeric pulled out, settling the both of them on their knees, pulling gently at her wrists, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Trembling, she groaned, balling her hands into fists, punching weakly at the water before signing, “Sorry,” at him over and over again.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Celis,” he murmured softly, gathering her shaking frame into his arms. "Like you said, it was a reflex." She said nothing and after a minute he lifted her out of the bath. He didn’t know what had triggered her, but she wasn’t in a state to continue.

Aymeric set her in a chair in front of the fire in the bedroom soaking wet before returning to the bathroom to grab towels. Wrapping one around his waist, all arousal gone, he returned to Celis settled in front of the fire and set about drying her off slowly, starting from their legs up before ruffling up their hair, placing a kiss just above the jewel set in her forehead. They couldn't bring themself to look at him and instead stared into the fire blankly.

He grabbed a jar of lotion Lucia had gifted him and began to work it into her skin, massaging her feet, her calves, knees, thighs, all the way up, reverently running his hands over every inch of her, working at the knots in her back, being delicate around her bruises and scabs.

Slowly, the trembling stopped and he felt her start to relax again, little sighs here and there as he worked out a knot. Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced up as he rubbed cream into her calloused hands and bruised knuckles.

“Thank you,” she signed and he smiled up at her.

“Of course, Cottontail,” he said, shifting up to kiss the tip of their nose. They smiled softly as he finished up, “Can you stand?”

She nodded and stood as he retrieved a robe for each of them and guided her to the large canopied bed. Despite being only an inch or so shorter than his six foot five frame, if you didn’t count her ears, the Viera felt very small curled against his side. He rested his head against her chest, giving her some comforting weight, and her fingers laced up to the back of his head to play with his hair. He hugged her waist, slipping one hand beneath her robe to trace patterns on her skin.

Quiet enveloped the room and he dozed, listening to their breathing and the crackle of the fireplace as the candles burnt low before going out altogether. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he heard Celis stir.

“Aymeric?” she asked softly, as if they weren’t sure he was awake.

“Yes?” he answered sleepily, nuzzling against her.

She was quiet again for a moment before speaking hoarsely, “You kept me sane tonight.”

“You’re welcome, Cece. I might not have all the answers but you are always welcome to lay a head on my shoulder,” he murmured, feeling the purr of a chuckle in her chest.

"Sorry I tried to drown you."

He laughed softly, sleepily, "No hickies over fresh bruises. Lesson learned."

"I'll make it up to you, promise," she murmured as she shifted beneath him and he adjusted in turn, curling into her side as their legs tangled together. Her face dipped down to kiss the top of his head, breathing in the scent of him as he nestled into her chest. His arm rested comfortably over her waist, bent at the elbow to hold her other side. It wasn’t long after that they both nodded off to sleep, never drifting apart from one another.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time seriously writing and posting fanfic, so constructive criticism is welcome! Just be kind. :)  
> Celis is a nonbinary (non-bunnery?) woman and uses she/they pronouns. This is a story specific to my character and experience of the game thus far, so there will be minor spoilers for Heavensward onward.  
> Please keep major story spoilers out of the comments! (I haven't completed all the expansions as of yet.)


End file.
